Caffè Italia
by Charli Petidei
Summary: The Vargas family run a small-time Italian caffè, existing at peace with their surroundings until the stall opposite is bought by the Beilschmidt family and turned into a Mr Pretzel stand. Feliciano Vargas is soon drawn to Ludwig Beilschmidt; until their grandfathers meet by chance and the history between their families is thrown into the light...


**Caffè Italia**

**Summary: **In the centre of England, the Vargas family run a small-time Italian caffè, existing at peace with its surroundings until the stall opposite is bought by the Beilschmidt family and turned into a Mr Pretzel stand. Feliciano Vargas is soon drawn to Ludwig Beilschmidt; until their grandfathers meet by chance and the history between their families is thrown into the light.

**Pairing:** GerIta (with other assorted background pairings)

**Warnings: **Language, low self esteem, threats, rivalry between Ancient Rome and Germania, slash pairings, mentions of self harm, and lots and lots of pasta. Oh, plus a closely intertwined plot with another of my fics in the same AU, One For Sorrow, Two For Joy. You can read this fic alone, but OFSTFJ will give you a better understanding of the Spamano dynamic in the background of this fic.

_Enjoy~! ^u^_

**Chapter One: Hope**

* * *

"For God's sake, Feliciano, what are you _doing_ down there?!"

"Shhh Lovi!"

"What?! Don't tell me to 'shh'! Now get up off the floor and tell me what the _hell_ you think you're doing!"

Feliciano Vargas looked up from his curled up position on the kitchen floor and met his brother's angry gaze. Lovino was standing over him, hands on his hips, looking exasperated and annoyed. His cheeks were a little pink too - Feliciano suspected a recent run-in with his friend Antonio.

"I'm hiding," he told him urgently. Feliciano was sitting cross-legged on the tiled floor of Caffè Italia's kitchen, with an apron tied tightly around his waist and a tureen of water and uncooked spaghetti clutched tightly in his arms. His wavy brown hair stuck up at odd angles and his clothes were slightly ruffled up and in disarray, hanging off him awkwardly because of the strange curled up position he had assumed. Lovino sighed exasperatedly and crouched down beside him. Feliciano looked into eyes and smiled but Lovino just stared at him.

"Hiding from _who_?!"

Feliciano clutched the tureen closer to him as he answered. "Mr Pretzel."

There was a pause. "Mr Pretzel is the name of the new stall opposite the caffè. How can you be _hiding_ from it?" Lovino asked.

"No, not it! _Him_!" Feliciano explained. Why was Lovino not getting this!? He shifted uncomfortably with the awkward weight of the tureen in his arms. He held it out to his brother. "Hold the pasta for me; it's heavy."

"No!" Lovino cried, batting the proffered tureen away. "Who are you hiding from?!"

"I already told you, _Mr Pretzel!_" Feliciano explained urgently. Was Lovino not _hearing_ him?

"There is no Mr Pretzel! It is the name of a stall!" Lovino nearly shrieked. He put a hand to his forehead, something he seemed to do a lot these days, especially around Feliciano.

"Then who's the man working there?" Feliciano challenged, setting the heavy tureen down on the floor beside him and folding his arms stubbornly.

"That is not Mr Pretzel, Feli! That is just one of the people who work there!"

Feliciano raised his eyebrows. "Then why does his apron say Mr Pretzel on it?"

Lovino made an strange noise which sounded a bit like a scream, except low pitched and more annoyed. "All the aprons in the Mr Pretzel stand say that, Feli! Both of our aprons say 'Caffè Italia' on them but that doesn't mean that's what our names are! Do you want me to go around calling you 'Caffè Italia'?!" Lovino sighed. Feliciano frowned and thought it through before sighing. He guessed Lovino was right. He shrugged.

"Well, anyway that's who I'm hiding from," he said. Lovino straightened up and peered over the counter. Feliciano could see clearly in his mind what Lovino would be looking at. A tall, muscular man with scraped back blonde hair, working in the new Mr Pretzel stall opposite the caffè. His blue sleeves would be rolled up past his forearms, and he would be kneading some pretzel dough, working hard, a slight frown on his features as he concentrated.

Lovino crouched back down beside his brother. "So what is it?" he hissed.

"What do you mean?" Feliciano asked, stifling a giggle. He knew he shouldn't think like that, but there was something really funny about Lovino when he was exasperated like this.

"Why are you hiding from the Mr Pretzel employee?" Lovino demanded.

Feliciano's smile faded slightly and he met his brother's eyes sheepishly. Um.

"He looked at me," he said in a small voice.

There was a pause. "And that means you should hide behind the counter because...?" Lovino asked irritably.

"It's embarrassing," Feliciano replied.

Lovino closed his eyes and muttered something unintelligible. Feliciano looked at him again and Lovino held up his arms as if in surrender.

"Whatever, so someone looked at you! No big deal!"

Feliciano felt the beginnings of a grin appearing on his face. "Well, _you_ always hide when _Antonio_ looks at you."

Lovino blushed furiously. "_That's different!_"

Feliciano giggled. He could easily see why Antonio occasionally likened him to a tomato. One mention of Antonio's name and it was enough to send flames rising to Lovino's face.

Lovino stood up, combing his hair back with his hands, still bright red, while Feliciano struggled with trying to lift the tureen of water fully into his arms and then gave up.

At that moment the kitchen door burst open and Lovino whirled around. And then Feliciano saw him relax visibly when he saw who it was.

Feliciano smirked. Lovino had probably been fearing Antonio.

"Boys, boys, boys! Who is serving the customers, eh? Come on, you two! I drop in to see my grandsons and what are they doing? Sitting in the kitchen like there's no work to be done!" their grandfather cried as soon as he had burst through the doors. Romeo Vargas' hair was a stubborn, brown, I-absolutely-refuse-to-go-grey colour and his dark eyes sparkled with vitality and amusement. He was wearing jeans and a checkered shirt and looked no older than forty. In truth, he was nearing fifty, but his attitude and outlook on life had prevented him ageing - both physically and mentally.

His eyes scanned them both. "Feliciano, you're covered in dust and you have spaghetti in your hair. Ah, and Lovino, I see you're working on your beetroot impression. That's quite an impressive colour you have there."

Feliciano giggled, Lovino scowled, and Romeo waved his arms expectantly. "What is going on you two? Why are you both sitting in here like a pair of lemons?"

Lovino's face pulled into an even darker scowl. "I'm not '_sitting_' in here. I came in to see where Feliciano was and he was on the floor!" he protested.

Romeo looked at him. "Feli, get off the floor."

Feliciano grabbed for the pasta and scrambled to his feet, brushing his black jeans off and straightening out his clothes with his free hand as he did so. He straightened his apron, then twisted round to look at the backs of his legs and pouted. Oh.

"I'm all dusty now," he said sadly.

Lovino was going an impressive shade of purple now. "Then don't sit on the floor then you-!"

"Boys, boys! This is not getting any customers served, is it? You know Sara's not in today so we need you working hard!" Romeo chastised.

"Cecelia's out there," Lovino grumbled. Romeo pushed the kitchen doors open.

"Yes, but this is Caffè Italia! The customers expect to be served by hot, sexy Italian boys, not sweet, innocent little girls from Sicily," Romeo said, winking. Lovino groaned, muttering something about how Cecelia was anything but innocent and sweet, and Feliciano giggled. He loved Grandpa Romeo.

"I'll put the pasta on to cook," Feliciano sang, setting the saucepan down at last on the cooker in the corner of the room. He moved it onto the hob and turned it on, glancing quickly out of the window as he did so. He started humming a little tune to himself as he started opening cupboards and chucking all manner of ingredients in the pot as the water started grudgingly to bubble.

"Come on Lovi, you need to go and display your Italian sexiness to the customers. It looks like there are a large group of teenage girls in the Caffe, go and impress them with your masculinity," Romeo said. Lovino looked at him, eyebrows raised, expression one of 'seriously, you've got to be joking'.

But it seemed Romeo was not; because another sharp look from him sent Lovino grudgingly trudging out of the kitchen, will muttering under his breath, closely followed by Romeo himself.

As soon as they'd left, Feliciano left the pasta bubbling on the stove, and returned to the window. The man working in the Mr Pretzel stand was still there, now dunking pretzels in trays of cinnamon and sugar. Feliciano watched intently as he worked, noticing how his muscles showed clearly through the green shirt he was wearing. Feliciano smiled. He was handsome.

A few minutes later, the man in the Mr Pretzel stand looked up, and his bright blue eyes locked onto Feliciano's.

Feliciano squeaked and fell over.

Breathing quickly, Feliciano raised himself to crouch below the line of the window and brushed some stray strands of hair behind his ears. Why did he keep looking at the man? Why did the man keep looking at him?

Was sitting on floor so much going to have an adverse affect on his clothes?

Feliciano suddenly became aware that the pan on the stove seemed to be bubbling very loudly, and his eyes flitted up just in time to see a cloud of white bubbles cascade over the top of the tureen. The pasta was boiling over!

"Oh no!" Feliciano cried, scrambling to his feet and running over to the stove. He grabbed the tureen and whipped it off the hob, sending bubbles flying everywhere, but the froth only subsided somewhat. After a moment of panic, the water finally started to calm down, and Feliciano breathed a small sigh of relief as he turned the stove down and put the pan back on the hob.

He turned around again, and as his eyes locked onto the pretzel stand, he realised the man there had been watching him the entire time.

Feliciano blushed furiously, and unless it was his imagination, the man opposite smiled shyly before looking away, back down at the pretzel dough he was kneading.

* * *

"A carbonara and a lasagna for table six," Feliciano sang, a couple of hours later, winding his way through the maze of tables and chairs crowding the caffè. A couple nearby looked up at his words and he made his way over to them.

"Your meal, sir, lady. I hope you enjoy it! Let me know if you need anything!" Feliciano said, smiling and placing the dishes down in front of them.

"Thank you," the woman said with a smile, and Feliciano beamed at them again before bouncing back off again towards the kitchen.

But as he passed the entrance of the caffè, pushing a few chairs into the tables to make a navigable path and picking up a few empty dishes on the way, he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of a grinning face he thought he recognised... And Feliciano turned with delight to see an old friend walking into the caffè.

"Feliks!" he shrieked, dropping the dishes he was holding onto the nearest vacant table before bounding towards the entrance to the caffè to launch himself on top of the unsuspecting Pole.

"Feli!" Feliks gasped as the Italian flew at him, toppling over to land sprawled on the caffè floor. Feliciano laughed and carried on clinging excitedly to his waist. A few passers-by turned to stare curiously at the two before going on their way.

Feliks managed to loosen Feliciano's grip and pushed himself up onto his knees, grinning.

"You know I totally love your hugs and stuff but, like, I can't breathe when you strangle me like that bro!" he said. Feliciano bit his lip and grinned.

"I'm sorry! It's just I haven't seen you in forever!" he said, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Feliks again. Feliks grinned and returned the hug before exhaling and getting to his feet. He brushed off his already spotless white jeans, which clung so tightly to his legs they seemed to defy the laws of physics.

Feliciano held his hands out expectantly and Feliks pulled him to his feet, grinning.

"Tut tut, this floor's so mucky! It's totally ruined my trousers!" he sighed, pouting exaggeratedly. Feliciano gasped.

"Oh no! I must not have cleaned the floor well enough yesterday! I'm so sorry!" he cried, hand going to his mouth. Romeo had told Feliciano in no uncertain terms yesterday that he was to make the floor spotless after the, uh, 'Sara incident' of the day before. But maybe Felciano hadn't done it well enough!

Feliks giggled and ruffled Feliciano's chestnut hair reassuringly.

"Shh, it's fine, I was messing with you Feli. The floor's perfectly clean. Promise," he said, smiling.

"Oh," Feliciano breathed. He smiled. "I'm glad."

"You are funny Feli!" Feliks giggled. As Feliciano smiled at him, he felt his eyes straying to the pretzel stand just over the blonde's shoulder, and he realised that the man in the stand was watching them with amusement. As Feliciano met his eyes, the man blushed and looked away again.

Feliciano didn't know what to make of it.

Feliks seemed to notice Feliciano's straying gaze and turned around. His eyebrows rose appreciatively: "Ooh! Who's the hottie in the pretzel stall?"

Feliciano went red and stammered for a bit. "I- I thought you were already in love?"

A trace of sadness suddenly crossed the Pole's face and Feliciano felt bad.

"Yes. My Toris..." Feliks murmured, and Feliciano realised how different the Pole looked when he was sad. Feliciano knew the basic outline of the story of Feliks and Toris, but Feliks wouldn't tell anyone else how the two had met, what had happened to Toris, why they had been apart from one another for so long, why undisguised pain was clear on Feliks' face whenever Toris' name was mentioned - and why Feliks searched every day of his life to find 'his Toris' again. But lately, his sadness had felt like a different kind of sadness. Before it had had a hope in it, but now Feliks gave off the feeling as though he had found something important at last, only to find it had been damaged irreparably.

Feliciano wondered what it all meant.

Then Feliks seemed to brush off the sudden sadness and he smiled again. "Yes, of course I'm already in love, always will be. And no one will _ever _come before my Toris. But-" - and Feliks tickled Feldiciano's chin - "-I can still notice when someone's hot or not," he said, grinning.

"A-and you say he is?" Feliciano asked curiously, studying the man.

Feliks rolled his eyes as if it was obvious. "Yeah! Are you not seeing him?"

Feliciano smiled, and then the man in the stand looked up again, into the eyes of a not easily embarrassed Pole.

Feliciano blushed bright red, and yanked Feliks' arm, who was still staring unabashedly at him.

"Hmm?" Feliks asked distractedly.

"Stop - staring!" Feliciano pleaded. Feliks turned to face him, grinning.

"I'm sorry Feli! Am I like, embarrassing you?" he asked teasingly.

"No! Of course not! But, can we just...er...go inside now?" Feliciano pleaded, tugging on Feliks' sleeve urgently. Feliks let out a high-pitched giggle.

"Okay Feli! Just like, don't break my arm!" he said. Feliciano relaxed his grip and started dragging the somewhat amused Pole towards the kitchen. He pushed Feliks inside and followed him, to see a very interesting scene indeed.

There Lovino stood, in the kitchen, with the Vargas family's Spanish friend, Antonio, twin saucepans on their heads, and their hands, held up in front of their faces, yet interlinked together. They had obviously both been laughing, and were now smiling softly at one another.

As soon as Feliciano burst in, Lovino abruptly dropped Antonio's hands, staggered back from him as if given an electric shock, and whipped the saucepan off of his head, mouth falling into a scowl and cheeks blushing furiously.

"Shut up," he said, before anybody had had the chance to speak, and then stormed, embarrassed, out of the kitchen.

Antonio smiled fondly after him, obviously amused. "Don't forget to check the magpies!"

Lovino shouted a swear word at him, making Antonio laugh.

"He doesn't mean it," Feliciano giggled, and Antonio turned to smile reminiscently at him.

"No," and he sighed. "No, he doesn't."

Feliks shifted awkwardly and Feliciano turned to him. "It's my cooking shift. Do you want to come and talk to me in the kitchen while I make-" - Feliciano flicked through the notebook in his apron pocket - "-a couple of paninis and some tomato soup?"

Feliks nodded and they both nodded a quick goodbye to Antonio, who was already jogging out of the caffè after Lovino, before making their way over to the stove.

Feliciano rolled up his sleeves further and turned to look at Feliks, who was settling himself back comfortably onto a large cardboard box bearing the warning 'do not crush contents'. Feliciano grinned, then turned to wash his hands, catching a glimpse through the porthole-style window of the man in the pretzel stand, who by some unknown means looked up at that exact moment.

Their eyes met and this time Feliciano had to tear his own eyes away after neither of them had moved for several seconds.

Feliks snickered and Feliciano went red, determinedly turning back to the sink.

And as he got to work cooking at last, he sighed.

Life was going to be a little difficult if he wasn't going to be able to look over at the pretzel stand from now on.

_To be continued..._

* * *

**A.N. **

Hi guys! My name is Charli - Charli Petidei - and welcome all to Caffè Italia!

As you've probably guessed, this is a cute little GerIta fic, and the set up for this fic: an Italian caffè opposite a German pretzel stand, actually does really exist in my local shopping centre - Centre MK (in England). I realised this when I went to the centre one day and bought a pretzel, felt very German (X3), turned around, and saw the giant Italian caffè. I'd never noticed this coincidence before! So yeah, the ideas came thick and fast after that!

Okay, clearing a little bit of confusion up - briefly mentioned Cecelia is Sicily, and Sara is Sardinia - the two main Italian islands :D I wouldn't really call them OC's, but I have made their personalities up myself so sorry if you disagree with anything XD Their characters will develop further in the progress of this fic.

Okay, now, as people who have read my other fics will know, this fic is part of a big AU of mine, set in modern day England - based mainly around restaurants and cafés in the giant shopping mall, Centre MK. And for each fic in that AU, a song by Gabrielle Aplin is allocated.

And so, for Caffè Italia, I have chosen Gabrielle Aplin's gorgeous cover of 'The Power of Love' by Frankie Goes To Hollywood. Okay, I know it's a cover, and this is the only fic in the AU which is not fitted to one of her original songs - but 'The Power Of Love' fits really well for this one :) Have a listen: youtube/watch?v=zNpeK7sDLzE.

If you want to know more about Feliks and Toris' story - or in fact Antonio and Lovino's story, check out my other fics, 'This Time' (PolLiet) and 'One For Sorrow, Two For Joy' (Spamano) respectively.

I will update! I know I should update before I post a new story but I couldn't resist this one! I will reply to all lovely reviews too! Eventually! Life has just been rather hectic lately lol XD

Okay, I think that's enough waffling from me now!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading, reviewers will earn a massive giant squishy hug from me, and I hope to see you again soon in the next chapter, or in one of my other fics in the AU :)

Love y'all!

Keep dreaming,

Charli Petidei x


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